


seven devils (all around you)

by morino



Series: [ collection ] – cocktail [5]
Category: springwave
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 04:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10937499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: "you know how my father gets when you don't take proper care of yourself."[ royalty au; min/hyejin ]





	seven devils (all around you)

Her husband sits on the other side of the table, lips glossy from the soup that is their dinner, cooked by the hands of staff that were tactically shoved into her family's kitchen.  
  
The start of this change came in on a breeze that felt gentle and inconsequential, taking the shape of a simple request.  
  
_Might I ask that we bring our chef with us, once our children are wed? There may be differences in the ways our meals are cooked, and I wouldn't want my children missing something so integral to the feeling of home._  
  
Her father, the blind and greedy dolt that he was, was more than happy to cater to the man offering him and his kingdom the time of day.  
  
_Of course, of course. If only there was more we could do to help you all feel at home._  
  
Hyejin remembers standing just outside of her father's study, listening from behind the closed door, an ear pressed squarely against it as her eyes darted around looking for any approaching shadows.  
  
The sound that soon followed had been far fainter than their voices were for much of the conversation, but she still caught it - the sure clapping of hands meeting in the middle, presumably shaking on this seemingly trivial promise.  
  
It was only one meeting she managed to catch on her way to her quarters; there is no doubt in her mind that there were more. And in every single one, her father grew more and more comfortable with the feeling of his hand gripping that of a man who oozed power, even when that man held almost none.  
  
With every handshake and minor request made in the name of comfort, her father saw the opportunity to hold some tangible form of power over someone. He delighted in the ability to grant the king in their home whatever he wanted, as if the act of being a cunning man's genie gave him some semblance of worth.  
  
All of the granting and meetings and promises led to this - appointed guards at the doors of Yu's children's rooms and the two men standing guard at her bedroom door. Being unable to leave the castle grounds without an escort and being told where she could and could not go even when accompanied. Invitations to frivolous parties being accepted or denied based on what King Yu's adviser deemed fit.  
  
Being unable to talk to or hear from Prince Joonsuh for months because of all the ridiculous and invasive systems put in place for incoming and outgoing letters. For their own safety, Yu had assured.    
  
But perhaps the most pressing matter was the number of kitchen staffers that have been replaced since this started, and the watery murk in her bowl she's supposed to call food. Now, on most nights, dinners are some indiscernible variation of bland and salty. All Oldstorman delicacies according to His Highness, King Yu.  
  
Hyejin does not raise her head when she hears her father cough, does not comment when he guzzles down his glass of wine to ease the irritation in his throat.  
  
"Hah, pardon me," he chuckles once he's put his cup down, "I'm still not used to all these spices."  
  
Yu's laugh is boisterous and his reassurances - _it took almost all of us in the family quite a few years to stomach it, as well_ \- fall on ears all too ready to believe whatever nonsense is trotted out to them.  
  
Hyejin stirs what's in her bowl, untouched despite the fifteen minutes that have gone past since dinner began, and idly wonders when it will be poison her father is finding so troublesome to knock back.

 

-

 

"You should have had more than just your drink," her husband drawls, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "You know how my father gets when you don't take proper care of yourself."  
  
Outside of her room, the moon is high in a sky dusted with an endless coat of stars. The grounds below are deserted apart from the guards doing their rounds, the sound of their steps and amiable, hushed chatter filtering up to her room on occasion.  
  
Minjae stands in front of her mirror, masterfully dishevelled from head to toe. His shirt is partially untucked and poorly buttoned, hair sticking up in every direction, trousers crinkled as though they had been hastily removed and left in a heap on the floor at some point.     
  
Hyejin pushes her body away from the window, curling her fingers around her elbows as she wrapped both arms around herself.  
  
For months now, her handmaidens have been pillaging through her wardrobe, making removals and additions based solely on what seems to be whim. But Hyejin doesn't doubt King Yu has his hand in this, too. Why else would most of her relatively modest nightwear be replaced with alluring colours and designs that are more for show than any useful coverage?  
  
Even with her body robed, she cannot escape the cool air snaking up her legs and the openings of the robe's sleeves.  
  
A shiver rocks through her as she turns around to face Minjae, who is still meticulously working on making himself look unkempt.  
  
It is the only way to make sure he can leave her room in the evenings without one of the posted guards making a report on their inability to ravish each other.  
  
The first month that passed with them avoiding each other as much as they could after dinner had earned Hyejin a visit from her stepfather, and a gentle probing into how she should start feeling about his son.  
  
_I, too, remember the days I felt shy around Minjae's mother. Such is the ways of young love in its budding stages. But the feeling shall pass, rest assured, if only you make the effort to... familiarise yourself with him._  
  
Even under the calm and twinkling night sky, the two of them surrounded by a luscious garden peppered with flowers begging to be plunked and shown off to the world while tucked in one's hair, Hyejin could not focus on anything but the sinister glimmer that caught the very edge of Yu's eyes when he looked over to her and said, _you understand, don't you?_  
  
She did. Of course she did.  
  
_You have no choice_ \- that is all he meant to say and his message was received, loud and clear. And the moment his back was to her, his feet leading him back to the castle, Hyejin crumpled his every word into a mental bin where it would be remembered, but largely ignored.  
  
"His standing on my well-being means little to me," these are words that don't even need to be said, definitely not between her and Minjae, but he wouldn't be able to catch her rolling her eyes from where she's standing; expressing her would-be eye roll with words is the next best thing. "And how my behaviour reflects on you means even less."  
  
It's the only real reason he cares about keeping up their charade, after all. That she learned during the oddly tense dinner that preceded her little chat with King Yu. Minjae had spent most of his time either glaring at his food, glaring at his father, or making so much of an effort to play nice with her that she could have sworn he was swallowing bile each time he complimented some part of her person to appease the two older men eating with them.  
  
Minjae chuckles at her adamance, like he's dealing with a spoiled toddler unsatisfied with a present they've been given. Her frown deepens at the sound.  
  
He does up one last button that he leaves misaligned before throwing her a knowing look over his shoulder.  
  
"Who do you think you're saving yourself for, I wonder."  
  
Hyejin's fingers dig at her elbows, and Minjae's smile grows larger as her body tenses. He continues, merrily picking at the long-exposed nerve she hasn't yet managed to cover.  
  
"It doesn't matter, really. All we have to do is wait until he finds another flight of fancy to fondle in the cellar. Then you'll be left starving for comfort that I will _happily_ provide. For the sake of our house."    
  
If she was closer to her wit's end, she thinks that perhaps she would wander closer to him and sink her nails into his throat. Instead, she allows his words worm their way into her chest and bite chunks out of  her uncertainties, only to spit them out and start chewing on the remains.  
  
As he walks to the door, believing their conversation to be over, Hyejin remembers something else about the night King Yu approached her.  
  
She thinks of a familiar young man - his hair scruffier than it usually is, and skin surprisingly rosy for someone that so often looks drained of color - scurrying down the passageway with his shirt untucked and a few odd spots around his neck. She made it a point to bid him a good evening, as she always did when she happened upon him. He couldn't quite meet her eyes as he hurriedly wished her the same and continued on his way.  
  
He'd come from the direction of some of the guest rooms. At the time, and as far as she knew, no one was expecting a visitor; there'd be no need to prepare any rooms for one, especially not that late. Hyejin found it strange but waved it off. Yet it continued to happen; her stumbling upon him rushing away from some area of the castle, and him in disarray, unwilling to meet her gaze.  
  
And so often on those nights and the mornings that followed, Minjae was at his most insufferable; mirthful and irritatingly pleased with himself.  
  
Quite like tonight, in fact.  
  
Her fingers relax, much to her elbows' joy. Despite the cool breeze running in constant circles around every inch of skin it can find, there is a warmth that sits peacefully underneath it all; tendrils of contentment that are thicker than any chill or self-satisfied prince the night saddles her with.  
  
"Enjoy the houseboy."  
  
Minjae's grip on the door handle tightens just before he pulls the door open, and Hyejin allows the complacent strings of victory to tug at the corner of her lips as the door shuts.


End file.
